Waltz With a Wolf
by 3DoorsDownAndAwayFromTheSun
Summary: Skyrim finds itself in a fragile peace and those that would threaten it lie dead but like so many things, even this is fated to end in the blood of both men and werewolf and all of this shall be placed upon the shoulders of a battle weary Dragonborn. This is a tale delving into the psyche of PC and threw in some romance to make it fun.
1. Chapter 1: And so it Began

Times had changed. The frozen land of Skyrim almost seemed peaceful. The snow rarely fell upon blood soaked ground of brothers. The vast expanse of mountains no longer echoed the cries of death from the sky as the World-Eater, Alduin, had been slain. The dark brotherhood was a fragment of history that was to be hopefully forgotten as the assassins' corpses rotted in a sanctuary. The land was at a fragile peace but one could almost see points in which the land could be tossed back into chaos. The tipping points were as clear as the summits of the mountains above the clouds as the peaks stretched for the heavens above and one man understood that all too well.

The Throat of the World was a mountain that's majesty was on display for the entire world to be in awe of. The craggy peaks and jutting rock formations welcomed only the truly brave or foolish as the moment held no soft curve and shallow falls. It's unnerving mystery was blanketed by the snow cap that remained year round as if telling the world of its timeless beauty as the rest of the world was held in that miserable and binding illusion known as the constant march of time. Yet, for a single man it seemed to move slower than most.

This solitary man, who stood where almost none stood before, stood stoically. His leather armor gently hugged his frame, his black hair neatly slicked back, and his piercing brown eyes almost glowed in contrast to his dark skin. He was tall and was lean and was the true vision of an Imperial soldier. His face seemed incapable of fear or any emotion for that matter. His eyes seemed only concerned with what was happening before and before him held a great sight.

Upon an ancient wall covered in a language long forgotten and craftsmanship lost to the annuals of history, there sat a creature of legend. The wingspan of the mighty creature could engulf two small cabins and dull grey-chalk scales shimmered in the early morning light. It flapped its wing; sending two tiny blizzards in either direction but the human did not flinch or draw his weapon. He only looked upon the beast with the strangest of reactions. That was a smile.

"Dovakin…"Parthurnax boomed with the same joy, the dragonborn had upon his face. It was similar to the manner a father looked down upon a gifted son. "Thank you for letting this old dov be a _mindopah_ once again. "

"_Nox_, Parthurnax. The past month was my pleasure." Valen replied with a bow. For the past month, The young Brenton had learned the ways of the dragons and was slowly learning their tongue with more fluency. His shouts had also become more substantial in their power. He could truly breath fire as the dragons did and his unrelenting force was now strong enough to shatter stone with only the second word.

Valen and looked out from the mountain and back towards the land he had spent so much time in. His face grew long and his mouth turned back a scowl that was as much of a signature as the signing of his name. He had a small dread of returning to the land of Skyrim. Even though he had found his own place in that unforgiving land, his time with Parthurnax started to raise questions he had never before asked. Before, he saw in black and white. The Stormcloaks were fools with misguided goals. The Dark Brotherhood were monsters that needed to be put down like the cowardly dogs they were and Alduin was nothing more than an intelligent monster but the time spent with the Grey Beards and Parthurnax had him questioning such defined lines of thought and reasoning. The trouble on his face became apparent to his dragon mentor.

"What is wrong, _goraan gein_?" Valen shook himself from his track of thought as his teacher's words boomed about the mountain. Valen only scratched his head as he looked upon his scaly father figure. Even as a dragon, Valen could see the worry upon his face.

"I just find myself questioning some previously held beliefs." Valen replied honestly.

"I am sorry dovakin but those are beyond my wisdom to tell you." Parthurnax extended his head towards Valen. His warm breath rushed over like a hot jet stream and felt comforting to Valen. "I am also afraid these answers do not lay upon this mountain." Valen caught the hidden meaning. He had learned everything he could from his favorite dragon. Valen raised his head once with his usual stoic nature.

"I know _mindopah_. I wish I could stay here longer. It is not like Skyrim needs it's Dragonborn at this moment." Valen almost seemed like a child saddened by the departure of a parent and Parthurnax understood. Valen never knew his parents. He had only known the tough life of a Cyrodil street urchin but Parthurnax couldn't help but take pride at what the young twenty-six year old had accomplished. Despite his age, he had been an honorable person and even defied the Blades out of pure honor. The events of the Dawnguard only impressed Parthurnax more but that exact incident also caused the young man doubt. His black and white world started to become gray. Valen had met a young vampire woman who was in no way evil or malicious. She, like Parthurnax, was actively defying her nature and wished to lead the life on an honorable person. Thankfully Serana had become a sister to Valen and had helped him drop his jaded and close minded view but Valen was still far from an emotional and sympathetic person. His time in the Imperial army and possibly his war against Alduin had forced the young man to abstain from emotion or compassion as it had gotten so many around him killed.

"You know that is not true." Parthurnax replied with a slight hint of scolding. "Skyrim and all of Tamriel still cry for their _dovakin_. I much enjoyed the company but even the answers you seek are not on this mountain. Now go, _fahdon_ and may we see each other again."

"We shall, _fahdon_."

The return to Whiterun was long and thought provoking. As rolling mountains and snow covered land passed by, Valen had that cold and professional look on his face. Even as he was no longer on duty for the Legion, his demeanor was forever engraved by the experiences of the Legion and serving with the Dawnguard. No matter how much he and Isran had fought, Valen couldn't but help feeling the scars and lessons learned from that entire time. On top of that, if he made himself, he could almost remember word for word the screaming match Delphine and him had about the continued existence of Parthurnax. He never returned and he no longer received correspondence from them. Even Erik stopped writing to him after a month.

Valen could almost smell Whiterun. The burning of fireplaces and Adrianne's forge made him feel a little nostalgic and he could almost see Vilkas and Farkas tackling him after his extended leave. They would laugh and brawl until the sun set. That would be followed by an early morning hunt with Aela where she would chastise and tease him about how he was horrible at hunting and he would return to his preferred scaled and winged prey. The more he thought about it, not just Jorrvaskr but all of Whiterun might as well be his home. No matter how many times he ventured off or the calamities and catastrophes he prevented, he always returned to Whiterun.

He stepped out of the carriage and made a short walk past the gate and finally stepped into the greatest city in all of Skyrim as far as Valen was concerned. Adrianne's forge was the first welcomed smell he encountered. As he walked by, Adrianne noticed him and, taking a short break from her work, waved at him. Valen wondered how much Septims he spent getting his armor and weapons repaired.

The wooden cottages that lined the cobblestone road made the place seem quaint but still lively for its size. He entered the market with various stalls selling their goods and Valen noticed that a few more had been added. Valen continued his walk as he cordially waved at everyone.

He finally reached the cloud district. The houses here were grander and larger as they housed the Grey-manes and Battle-borns. Since the civil war had ended with Ulfric's head on a pike back to Cyrodil; the feud had ended but the families were still tense. Yet, what really helped end the feud was the marriage between Jon and Olfina.

Valen was about to turn and make his way back to his Companions when almost on queue Nazeem walked up and showed his ignorance. Valen used to be annoyed by the Redguard's attitude but after Valen became Thane and Harbringer and practically addressed most of his affairs in the Cloud District, it was laughable.

"Do you get to the Cloud district often?.." Nazeem started.

Valen only shook his head and walked off before anyone could answer. His sight was set upon the halls of Jorvaskr. This and Castle Duor had been the only two places where he felt comfortable laying his head and as he pushed aside the door to the great hall, he remembered why.

As he entered the great hall with the smell of roasting meats and old wood, the sight of the giant fire pit and the grand dining table seemed to call to Valen's weary body. As he drew towards his seat in the hall, he felt two hard, heavy smacks against his back and the greeting could only belong to a certain pair of twins.

"Farkas, Vilkas." Valen acknowledges their greetings. His tone was stoic and calm. Farkas and Vilkas smiled at each other as they didn't expect less from their Harbinger. The circled around Valen to now be in his field of view and their armors clanked with each step. Both were stout men, pure Nords with black hair. While both taller than Valen, Farkas was slightly taller and bulkier compared to his brother. Valen readjusted his leather armor as the pats on the back had shifted the armor uncomfortably.

"It has been awhile Harbinger. What were you doing up there?" Farkas asked innocently but Vilkas knew the question would never receive answer. Valen had kept secret all of his actions as Dragonborn. His antics in the Thalmor Embassy were never whispered in mead halls, his falling out with the Blades was a story that would never see a fireside and his learning of a shout with the help of a repenting dragon would never enter the ears of drunken men upon the melody a bard's song. As far as the world knew, the Dragonborn mysteriously rode into Sovengarde upon the back of a tamed dragon and defeated the World-Eater and that is how Valen wanted it. His Brenton blood did not have the same need for boasting and drunken bragging as the Nords did.

"I am sorry. I cannot discuss that." Valen's tone was stern but did not scold yet Farkas still looked a bit hurt at the lack of trust. Valen continued "I will be in Kodlak's room if I am needed. If you see Tilma, tell her I will be joining tonight for dinner." Valen patted the twins on the shoulders and took his leave. He felt bad for leaving them there like that but he was never good at keeping up a conversation without a few tankards of mead and he didn't like to be drunk.

He walked down into the sleeping quarters. The only soul currently in there was Tilma. Valen's wasn't too surprised. Midday found most companions out on jobs and contracts and Valen figured Vilkas and Farkas took one together nearby.

Valen walked up to Tilma, making sure to make his presence noticed and not startle the old woman. She was a den mother to the companions as well as the caretaker. She, alongside Kodlak , was the first to be nice to a former legionnaire looking to hone his skills before facing Alduin. Soon, these halls were no longer just a place to test Valen's steel and Tilma had gone from a maid of sorts to a wise old woman, he would go to for advice if Kodlak was busy.

"Hello Tilma." Valen announced.

"Ok, hello dear." Tilma said meekly. She rested her weight upon the broom as she looked over the weary Harbinger. "It has been awhile, yes?" Valen feared she would repeat Farkas' question.

"Yes, it has, Tilma but I'm here for a while." Valen replied. He tried to sound friendly but the lack of a smile and weariness made it hard.

"You look tired." Valen let out a mental chuckle as she without blinking went to worrying over him. She did this for almost any companion. A common joke was to call her mother when she had gotten on someone's hide about getting hurt or not taking time to eat and rest. Those episodes had involved mostly Teron and the twins but Valen welcomed the concern. "Why not rest a bit? You have time before dinner." Tilma offered.

"That is a good idea." Valen let out a weak smile and then he noticed how tired his body was. His time meditating and training with Parthurnax had drained him more than he initially thought. "Thank you, Tilma. I will be in Kodlak's…" Tilma did not let him finish.

"That is your room now, child." Tilma began to scold. "Kodlak left this whole hall to you and one day you shall pass it onto your successor. " Valen knew what she was saying was true but Kodlak's death had not been taken well by anyone. Aela disappeared. Vilkas and Valen destroyed the Silver-hand and Farkas locked himself in his room. The pain was so much that the destruction of the Silver-hand was not enough for Valen and he cleared out four dungeons full of draugr and other beasts and slew two dragons. Only when Kodlak found peace in Sovngarde did Valen's rage finally pass.

"I know Tilma but even after all this time, it still feels weird without him here." Valen Frowned at the ground. Kodlak had taught much to Valen. He had taught him the meaning of honor and mercy that Valen's time as an imperial soldier had deadened. Even as he stood in front of Tilma, he could almost hear Kodlak's words guiding him. "I better get some rest." Valen could only pass by Tilma. Thoughts of Kodlak reminded Valen of loss. He remembered that emotion's bitter taste

Valen entered the room of the Harbinger. Despite what Tilma said, it was not his. Valen maybe Harbinger but this was Kodlak's life. Valen could still feel the twinge of guilt like an insider interrupting a funeral. Valen tossed off his armor, and only kept on his trousers. He looked down at his weary body in a nearby mirror. His five O'clock shadow had gotten slightly darker and rougher. His chest was ridden with scars. The most noticeable was the one right over his heart. He placed his hand upon it. This was a monument to the ferocity of Alduin. The scar just above the heart was where the black winged nightmare had lashed his tail out towards Valen, smashing through ebony plate and leaving a scar he would never forget.

Valen fell upon his bed after taking count of his new scars. He looked up at the stone walls as his eyes grew heavy. It felt weird knowing he had ridden from Rorikstead to Whiterun without as much as a bandit attack. He could hear a few feint dragons far off in the distance but those were the ones that had sworn loyalty to Parthurnax and started to learn the way of the voice and since his confrontation with Harkon, he no longer needed to stay up all night worrying about vampire attacks. That thought reminded he needed to visit Serana since she took up residence at Lake View Manor.

Valen didn't know when he had been captured by the allure of sleep but it worried him he was aware he was in a dream state. He found himself in the middle of a thick forest like the ones outside Falkreath or Markarth. The trees were a maze of bark and leaves with no true entrance or exit He looked around and noticed it was nightfall in the dead of a Skyrim spring. He looked around trying to gain his bearing but the trees began to blend together and anyway out of this forest were not visible to his eyes.

He took a step forward and heard something echo that step. He spun on his back heel, steel sword drawn. He cursed as the dream did not equip him with his dragon bone weapons. At the end of his blade was only more forest. He sheathed his blade once more and decided that would be the direction he would walk until this dream ended or Tilma woke him up.

As he took another step, something crunched a breath's duration afterward. Valen spun once more, blade gleaming in the moonlight. The tip of the blade was pointed at a mass of dark brown fur. The mass fell and rose as Valen could hear it breathe. The mass rose, revealing a disgusting combination of man and wolf. Valen looked into its glowing eyes. He instantly recognized it as a werewolf.

"I am free of you Hircine!" Valen roared! The werewolf only continued to look upon him. He could feel it mocking him. "Release me or I will burn this entire forest down!" Valen roared like the dragon inside of him. He even noticed the growl in his tone. The werewolf only settled upon his haunches and continued to look at him. Valen sheathed his blade knowing it was only a dream.

"Valen." He jumped back in reaction to the werewolf. It spoke but spoke with the voice a female. Its tone was like the ring of a struck wind chime. Valen redrew his blade. The hair on his back stood straight up, he bore his canines and tightened the grip on his sword.

"I said release me. Our connection ended when I threw that witch's head in the fire and slew the beast that came forth." Valen roared once again. "You no longer lay claim to my soul." Valen barked.

Valen felt his mind constantly wonder as he continued to ponder the dream that had just plagued him. He had nightmares before. Being in the legion, it promised you two things if you survived. The first was you would understand the meaning of loss. Valen had lost track of how many lives were lost in just the battles he participated in and he could still hear the bitter cries of widows and families hearing someone they loved dearly now laid dead on a battlefield. The second was you would have nightmares and all of them would remind you of the first aspect of the legion.

Valen could almost smell the werewolf and he could almost feel the spring winds race across the skin even as the wind was still in the great hall of Jorrvaskr. Even as the sounds of the Companions hummed about the halls, He could hear its breath and the rhythm in which it exhaled and inhaled. Yet what haunted him the most was the voice. He woke up expecting Aela or even Serana standing over him but no one was there.

Valen swore as he realized how much it was consuming him. He had freed himself of lycanthropy. He massacred the witches that had cursed the companions and Farkas, Vilkas and he freed themselves. Farkas and Vilkas were happy to be back on the path to Sovngarde. Valen didn't know if Bretons went there as well but he felt relieved to be free of the instincts and blood lust that haunted him but now he swore he could feel it swelling in himself once more.

Valen slowly rose. He adjusted his simple clothes and walked out into the training yard hoping to find clarity. As he stepped out he saw a beautiful redhead unleashing arrows that stroke out with the wrath of the divines themselves. Aela turned and noticed as she now had a spectator. Valen took a seat and watched as she continued to fire practice arrows into the straw targets. He rested on the seat at one of the two outside benches and listened to the rhythmic impact of each arrow. His thoughts got lost in the consistent. For such things were rare for him. He could barely remember the last time he wasn't faced with a crisis that needed solving or a life in danger needed rescuing. What was even worse was he could almost feel his very soul stir at the lack of conflict.


	2. Chapter 2: Wolves in the Reach

**Author: ****_Sorry for the late update on this. College is being oh so...interesting right now but I will try to put another update as soon as possible but that is if life plays along. So have fun._**

Aela finally gave up target practice and turned to join her Harbinger. Valen woke up from the day dream as the thud of arrows came to stop and footsteps drew closer. Her old Nordic armored accentuated to sway of her hips and Valen was always a bit jealous of Skjor for being so close to Aela. After his death though, Aela withdrew from the group and only after Valen became Harbinger did she return.

"Hello, Harbinger." Aela greeted with a lax smile. She took her seat across from Valen and noticed his body was before her but his eyes seemed to be somewhere else far from this land. "What brings you down among us mortals?" Aela jokingly jested at him.

Valen only let out a slight chuckle yet his face returned to its emotionless nature once more as if the jest never occurred. Aela knew him to lack the humor of a Nord yet this attitude was still concerning to her. She could barely remember the last time he smiled and she could never recall the last time he did it sober.

"I decided to check upon the Companions and take up some jobs. My coin purse has grown light as of late. " Valen replied looking back into her eyes. Aela couldn't help but notice the weariness and the heavy bags that hunger his grassy green eyes.

"Are you having dreams again?" Aela asked knowing Valen was prone to nightmares and some episodes could be heard throughout the entire living quarters. She assumed his time in the legion contributed to it and she could guess being the Dragonborn didn't help in the least.

"Yes…" Valen admitted despite small mental protest. He didn't wish to go into details but the small act of admitting it made him feel a bit more at peace.

"I guess there is no chance of you wanting to talk about it." Aela already knew Valen was only going to decline and go about his business for Valen was never the man to talk about what was bothering him or getting too close to someone. It only got worse once he had assumed the duty of Dragonborn. No one saw him for two whole months. It worried everyone in Jorrvaskr. Once he returned everyone thought things would go back to normal but he only seemed more distant. Then followed weeks where he would disappear and reappear and stories would follow him about another dungeon cleared or a bandit camp destroyed or a vampire clan gone from history. It only seemed recently he started to become more social once more.

"You know me to well, Aela." Valen let out a weak smile yet he continued to just sit there. Aela smiled to herself that Valen was now at least trying to face his emotional turmoil, even if it meant not leaving the room to avoid further discussion. "Are there any contracts open? My sword arm feels rusty." Valen said in attempt to continue the conversation.

"Just a few and most are your usual fair of brawls or bandit hunting except one Vilkas wouldn't shut up about near Markarth." Valen's head snapped up at the mentioning. "Apparently the local farmers are complaining of weird movement in the forest and.." Aela continued but Valen had heard this exact phrase before whenever the locals grew disturbed of a nearby shadow and the guards grew sick of the constant complaints.

"and the guards won't do anything. It seems every time someone has uttered that phrase, there was more to it than a mere shadow or scampering deer." Valen commented.

"I know brother." Aela added. "The contract says there are mysterious noises coming from the nearby forest that sounds like a large pack of wolves yet the tracks they find are too big." Valen was now hesitant to take such job. He already knew where this was about to turn. "This sounds like feral werewolves." The subject of lycanthropy had become delicate in the halls due to Aela being the only one left after the last of the inner circle cured themselves and it took everything Valen had to make sure Aela never felt alienated and made it a promise he would hunt with her whenever they could.

"I need to give this thought before I think about taking it and that is only if you approve." Valen turned to her.

"You are my Harbinger. You are free to do what you wish." Aela replied. "But I thank you for concern." Valen sighed in relief. He felt he had just barely escaped the jaws of a dragon.

"I need to head to Breezehome now." Valen stood up. "I am fairly sure Lydia will not appreciate me returning without announcing my return to her." After exchanging their goodbyes, Valen headed towards Breezehome, taking each step slowly and just enjoying the beautiful walk to his official home in Whiterun.

He finally came upon the steps of the modest cottage and pushed open the door and closed it swiftly behind him and sitting around the fire pit sat two women. Valen cursed under his breath at the scolding he would receive. Both had dark brown hair but the woman on Valen's left was pale as a sheet and had soft golden eyes he remembered glowing at one point and the other was clad in steel armor. Lydia and Serana were chatting away about whatever women discussed when men weren't present. Both turned towards him. Serana smiled and Lydia frowned. _Things never change,_ Valen thought.

"Where have you been my thane!?" Lydia roared as she leaped out of her seat and pounced on Valen. "You disappear for a month without warning or even a letter." Lydia frowned at him with disdain for his antics. "One day I see you in Whiterun socializing and the next, you are gone." Lydia threw up her hands and went to her quarters.

"That could have gone better." Serana laughed. She walked over and hugged Valen and Valen returned the same. She pulled away and smiled at Valen and retook her seat and gestured for him to join her. Valen took the spot at her side. "I am sure Lydia will forgive you, of course."

"She is the more passionate of the housecarls." Valen sighed. "Jordis acts like it is just a job and the others hardly see me enough to gain any sort of attachment." His face was still expressionless.

"So is the life of the Dragonborn." Serana laughed once more. "So how is Parthurnax doing these days?" In all of Skyrim, the only person outside of the blades Valen talked to about being Dragonborn was Serana. She was the sister he could turn too and she did the same. She even had been there when he released himself from Hircine.

"He is good." Valen looked over at her with a rare smile that only seemed to appear less and less. "We worked on some of my thu'ums and he showed me some of the dragon culture." Valen said nonchalantly as if talking to a dragon was the norm but when conversing with a former vampire who was the daughter of a powerful vampire clan; normality and some aspects of reality where quickly forgotten or ignored. "How have things been since my absence?" Valen asked knowing Serana was essentially interim Dragonborn while he was away and handled a good number of issues that arose.

"Everything seems to be at peace since the vampires have gone back into hiding in caves with necromancers." Serana stretched and yawned. "The only thing that worries me is The Reach." Valen raised an eyebrow at the coincidence. "Our contacts in Markarth keep reporting mysterious movements in the forest areas. This only started recently so it may just be a heard of deer or…"

"Werewolves…" Valen added.

"What makes you say that?" Serana asked puzzled by Valen's addition.

"The Companions have asked to look into the matter but their contract added that giant wolf prints were found." Valen slouched in his seat knowing he would be once again on the road just after getting off of it.

"I assume you are leaving in the morning to investigate?" Serana knew he would even before he answered. It was one aspect she admired and loathed about him. No matter where trouble popped up, he would be there but he hardly ever made time for himself and she felt he overestimated his resolve to carry on and wondered when the day would come when his body or mind faltered but never relayed these thoughts to him. He wouldn't listen to the concerns anyways.

"I am afraid I must." Valen let out another sight but his face still seemed cold and rigid and let out no emotion or weakness. "What will you be doing once you are done here in Whiterun?"

"I am off to Solitude see if Elisif needs help with the upcoming moot." Valen sighed in relief someone was going to do that. The divines blessed Valen as Serana was very good with the political aspect of Skyrim and covered for him in those areas as he took on the more brutish tasks. "Maybe clear a bandit camp or two for fun." Serana stood up and reached out her hand and pulled Valen to his feet. "But for today, we are going to go shopping. Belethor has some new books I wish to read. Apparently he got a new one about the exploits of the Dragonborn." Valen rolled his eyes as another novel had been written about his slaying of Alduin only reworded and misquoted something different.

"I guess if we must." Valen jokingly sighed.

"Like you don't enjoy shopping for new swords?" Serana glared at him with a questioning gaze. They both let out a quick laugh and Serana continued to smile as Valen had finally let out an emotion that wasn't rage.

The Reach was the meeting between the forests of Skyrim and the craggy mountains that jutted up and stabbed the sky and clouds. In the distance the faint roar of a dragon could be heard, deer ran across what open land was available until it met the vicious mountain sides and Vilkas was getting bored of it all.

Both men rode slowly through The Reach, Vilkas on a hazelnut brown horse while Valen rode upon a paint horse. Vilkas sported his usual wolf armor while Valen sported a full set Dragon scale.

Vilkas' face was distorted in boredom as Valen continued to scan the horizon for any action, shadowy movement or even the sound of a broken twig but the entire reach seemed to be cast in silence and that made Valen nervous.

"Shield-brother, I am starting to wonder if the milk-drinkers are just scared of their own shadows." Vilkas groaned annoyed as their two day adventure had begun to slowly drag on with the setting sun. Valen couldn't help but agree. Nothing seemed out of place except the silence. Valen couldn't hear birds or elk moving about. "I think it best we head back to Markarth and rest for a journey back to Whiterun."

"Does the silence not bother you?" Valen finally inquired as they continued to ride. "We are in the middle of Rain's Hand and the forest is quiet." Valen slowed and finally stopped. Vilkas followed up behind.

"We did just hear a dragon a few seconds ago. It probably frightened the animals in this area." Vilkas' tone was slowly growing annoyed. They had been searching for a day and a half in the area the reports claimed the movement and noise took place. They saw no tracks to follow and there were no animals running for their lives. "I am heading back to the inn unless you have any other ideas, brother."

"Rest up." Valen said relenting. "You'll head back to Whiterun in the morning and send Aela up here to help me scout." Vilkas sighed at the stubbornness of the harbinger. Valen was never the one to give up a contract so easily. "By the nines, I will find out what is going on here."

"You just said the nine." Vilkas chuckled at an Imperial soldier openly admitting to worshipping Talos.

"Are you the Thalmor?" Valen turned with a dark glare in his eye. Vilkas could almost feel the wrath swirling. Even though Valen was Imperial soldier, there were moments of question when a Thalmor agent would be found dead and Valen would have been on that exact road. Being Thane and a hero of Skyrim made it hard for anything to be proven.

"I shall be on my way to the Markarth now." Vilkas said and quickly road off. Valen sighed as he moved on without his shield-brother. His horse slowly tread as he continued to try to find anything out of place but nothing came into view except a clear Skyrim day.

Valen finally came up to a clearing just before hitting the primary mountain range in Skyrim and that is when things started taking a turn. No matter how much he spurred, his horse would not move or budge and kept shaking its head in protest and backing away from the road that went past the clearing. Valen knew something was here.

He jumped off his horse and tied it to a nearby tree. He slowly made his way to the clearing even as the sky slowly turned to a soft orange signifying the end of the day. Yet the silence bothered him and no game was even spotted. The forest was too peaceful and his experience as a military man told him the quiet meant one of two things. The battle was over or it was just about to begin.

Valen made his way slowly through the forest being mindful of any twigs on the ground as not to give him away to anything that would not see him there. Each step was slowly ebbing away at his nerves. The silence grew to the point not even the leaves rustled as the wind grew stagnate. He could feel a bead of sweat go down his brow. Each crunch of leaf brought the expectation of an ambush but it never came. Only the silence was there and that bothered Valen the most.

As clearing was slowly about to end, a mass was seen only a few feet away. Valen drew his blade, preparing for the worst. With every step he noticed more and more masses lying under trees, swords pinning others to the ground and then it dawned on him. He was standing on the border of a battle but the participants were nothing he had seen before. Some of the corpses had hard leather body armor with silver pauldrons and leggings. Others had more simple leather and deer hide clothing and markings that reminded Valen of the Forsworn he had fought a year back.

He walked over and approached one of the bodies clad in this mysterious armor. He was instantly reminded of the Dawnguard with the way the shoulders had multiple steel plates layered on top of each other and an intricate symbol on them. He took off the helmet revealing a young Nord with the usual blonde hair and blue eyes. The young man could have not been any older than nineteen and he still clutched his weapon in his arm as his eyes glared blankly and without life. Valen looked down at his armed hand and his heart stopped. It was a silver greatsword. Valen bolted up. He ran over to another armored body of a female Orc and she had silver arrows. Valen couldn't deny it any longer. The Silverhand had returned. Despite having all of their bases raided and leaders brutally killed, they had come back stronger and better equipped.

Valen swiftly ran over to one of the bodies clad in leather. This dead soul was an older Nord man in the middle of his now-ended life. Valen pushed aside red hair revealing, more face paint in the traditionally Nord style. Valen started riffling through pockets trying to figure who these people were. After only coming up with a bite of salted meat and a hunting knife, Valen stood up and looked around for the one thing that would justify the Silverhand returning and killing these people and it didn't take long.

At the very end was a black mass of fur. It was the size of a full grown horse with the head of a feral wolf. Valen approached slowly as not to be attacked by the beast playing dead. When he got within distance, he kicked the beast with his boot. It did not stir. With his safety guaranteed, Valen checked to see what killed the werewolf. He noticed a few slash marks with dried blood where it had been slashed at by a sword and two silver arrows in its head. Valen looked back towards the dead Orc and figured she killed the poor sod.

Valen moved back into the middle of the remnants of this struggle. From what he could tell, the Silverhand had ambushed a group of four hunters. The Orc woman was the last to die from bleeding as Valen had noticed the blood trail leading to her final resting place. Yet, it didn't explain the werewolf. If the beast wasn't with the hunters, why did the Silverhand lash out at them? They should have been innocent.

Nothing was adding up. Valen could only pace in the forests of The Reach as he tried to figure out how the scene before him came about. The Silverhand should have been destroyed but what lay before him said they were alive and even stronger than before unless this was a new threat but they had the exact same weapons as the Silverhand he fought. The hunters were nothing out of the ordinary except for the face paint and body markings yet there was a massive werewolf among them and all the cuts and wounds came from swords.

As Valen continued to ponder his surroundings he heard rustling. The leaves crunched under feet that were not his own. He did not ready his blade. He wished to see the intent of his guest. He continued to pace around like he didn't hear them. The steps were light and intently took their next position. Any hunter would have been proud at the lack of sound but he was soldier of war that had taken quieter and better men. The next sound was wood on wood and the stretching sound of a bow being pulled back ready to fire. Time slowed. Valen had been here so many times before and the sound no longer sent the cold chill down his spine. The only emotion left for that sound was determination.


End file.
